Tactical Analysis
by tarajcl
Summary: Set in Armada. Starscream studies the enemy in its natural habitat. First on the agenda, making Red Alert's day a little bit worse.
1. Hazardous

Should be working on Jets-fic, but the Jets in question is refusing to sit still. ((zaps Jetfire)) Takes place after 'Power Cut', but can work as a stand alone. More chapters coming when I get my lazy butt in gear. Starscream studies the various anomalies in Autobot behavior. Naturally, whilst being as annoying as possible.

Disclaimer: Neither the most excellent Starscream or His Magnificence, Red Alert, belong to me. Sigh.

Tactical Analysis

"Get on the table."

Red Alert's voice was flat and contained not one iota of compassion. Starscream glared. The effect was spoiled by the shower of sparks that his mangled wings chose at that moment to throw off.

"No."

There was no one else in the med-bay at that moment. If there had been, they would have been fascinated to watch the effects of unstoppable force meeting Red Alert.

The seeker had slunk into the medic's domain in search of a welding tool or three. Self-repair in the Decepticon army was a talent learned quickly or not at all, but the fact remained that seekers were at a disadvantage when it came to the most precious part of their shells. Some of the larger shuttle-types were specially equipped with arms long and flexible enough to fix wounded wings, or otherwise were lucky enough to have theirs stuck on somewhere accessible. Basic seeker-types, however, were at the mercy of CR chambers or whatever willing wingmates they could find.

Vain and adverse to the help of others as he was, Starscream had become proficient in matters involving his wings. It helped that one of them was removable, although the right was far more difficult. In his Cybertronian form (now gone and much mourned) he'd been able to pull-off a complicated half-transformation that brought his right wing close enough to effect basic repairs. He doubted that it would have worked as well in his new Earthen form (more awkward and much detested) but with CR chambers no longer close at hand and no long-suffering Thundercracker around to tend to him he had little choice.

_Damn Autobots and their damn inferior technology. _

"It's not just your wings. There's damage done to your middle back and cannons as well. Get on the table."

_Just how have these people remained alive for this long? No CR chambers and no survival instincts whatsoever, it seems…_

Starscream glared harder and growled a little, in the hopes that this would make the unnerving obstacle move from his path. No luck. Curses. The blue apparition crossed his arms and looked more like a large rock than ever.

"What do you want?" he muttered after a few second's silence. Despite the carefully modulated aggression he'd injected into his vocals, the words sounded more sullen than he had intended.

"To examine your middle back. I doubt you can reach your wings by yourself and I'm sure you can't get in between those cannons. It looks like there's some circuitry poisoning there. I can have it patched up in five minutes."

"No."

_Hah! Foxed you, Autobot._

Yet again Starscream found himself cursing one of his former comrades. Demolisher had been the one to send hellfire and brimstone into his unguarded back, whilst he scanned the battlefield for Megatron's carcass.

Stupid, he reprimanded himself. Optimus Prime had warned him at one point that he was in range of the shorter Decepticon, but Starscream was swiftly learning how to block out the sound of his…moment to maintain self-control needed here… 'commander's' (_aarghshamehumiliationaarghaargh)_ voice.

"I can get Swindle to do it", he said quickly, taking a moment to feel proud of this piece of fakery. Swindle had some knowledge of internal repairs and was handy when it came to welding cracks, but damaged flight mechanisms were beyond him and Starscream's cannons were so out of his league they were visible only by laser pulse. Besides, Starscream didn't trust the grinning mechanoid quite enough to let him that close to his vital systems.

The seeker's hopes crashed down as the other shook his head. Predictably, Red Alert's voice did not rise once from his typical soft monotone, irritating the seeker further.

"Unless Swindle's taken some advanced courses somewhere along the line, I don't think he's going to be able to help much. You can't reach back there yourself so why don't you let me do my job?"

_Because I'd sooner leave my bonding wiring in the hands of Cyclonus with a chainsaw, Autobot._

He suspected this argument wouldn't hold sway with the adamant Third In Command, so he tried a different tactic; charm.

"Surely you don't need to bother with me", he said in a reasoning voice. "I can see you're quite busy-"

Actually, the med-bay was completely empty, lacking, for once, any sign of removed panels, lain out tools or things that could otherwise have occupied Red Alert's attention. The room, for the first time since Starscream had seen it, was absolutely pristine. It was, he decided, just his luck.

"-and, really, it's nothing important, honestly. I'm certain you've got plenty of other things to attend to, so why don't I just-…"

"It's not nothing", interrupted Red Alert, causing Starscream's jaw to drop. Not at the fact that someone had the audacity to interrupt him- powerful figure or not, until the acquiring of Swindle, Cyclonus and Demolisher had made him their personal verbal target. And as for Megatron…

Someone having the audacity to interrupt him wasn't so surprising as the fact that it was a medic doing so. Decepticon medics were a terrifying collection of individuals, but even they tended to give Starscream space.

"You've got enough sparks coming out of you to light up a stadium, you're outer layer is extensively injured and you've probably cut at least three fuel lines. I don't have anything else to attend to. And I'm not busy."

Starscream had had enough. Scanning the room desperately as the medic talked, his gaze landed on the equipment platform closest to Red Alert. His spark sung as he saw upon it-success!- a welder. It looked a little bit smaller than would be ideal, but it would have to do. He tightened his motor cables, readying himself.

"Well" he sighed in feigned submission as Red Alert finished. "If that's the case, then I suppose I'll have to-…"

He lunged.

"…-_INSIST!"_

Caught by surprise, Red Alert threw himself sideways as Starscream's hand reached the required implement. Snatching it up, he turned and fled from the med-bay as fast as he could.

_Free! I'm free! Mwahahahahahaha!_

He grinned to himself, then winced as his middle back flared again. He'd have to get the Sonar and his team to work on it, he thought. They were all capable repairmen and could be trusted so far as to not steal parts of his person as they worked. Or, failing that, there was always Jetfire…

Red Alert watched the seeker depart in silence. He looked thoughtfully at the table where the welding tool had lain just seconds ago. Then he activated the com-link on his arm.

"_Optimus here. Any problems?"_

"It's Red Alert, sir. No problems, but I've just had Starscream in the bay."

"…_I see."_

"He's taken another of my tools, sir."

"_Still won't let you operate on him?"_

"Not even to get his wings patched up. If you find him dead in a corridor somewhere, let me know."

A sigh sounded over the link.

"_Alright. These things take time. I'll see what I can do about getting your equipment back."_

"Thank you, sir. This is the fifth time in a month."

"_I understand."  
_

"It was better than last time. Remember? He tore some of the cables in his leg."

"_Yes. You tried to fix it and he…"_

"Bit me. Yes, sir."

"_It'll get better, I promise."  
_

"If you say so, sir. Red Alert out."


	2. Fun With Fleshies

((stares at reviews)) Yikes. Did I ever mention I love you guys to death?

No plot as of yet. Don't worry, it's coming. Here's what would really happen if…you'll find out.

Heh.

Fun with Fleshies

_How much trouble would I get into for squishing him?_

Round, mammalian eyes stared up at him. As Starscream stared back, the young human fidgeted nervously.

It was the one whom Starscream had unconsciously begun thinking of as the Second-In-Command of the base's fleshling infestation. The pale, blue-clad creature was in charge, although Alexis was clearly the power behind the throne. The remaining two were easily classified as 'cannon fodder'.

This one, he noticed, had a tendency to stick the word 'man' onto the ends of his sentences with irritating frequency.

"So, how 'bout it, man?"

The evolution of the human race startledthe seeker a little. Their planet was hostile, their weather was lousy, they were defenseless and not hugely intelligent, and yet the damned things were _everywhere._

In fact, he reflected, when you thought about it like that, they were almost likeable. From a purely Decepticon point of view.

"Dude?"

_This one, on the other hand, should clearly be culled for the good of the species. _

"Go away."

And that should have _done it_, blast it all! The stupid squashy thing should have gulped, turned and run for his life. He should not have looked like Cyclonus denied the opportunity to destroy something large with a 'bang'.

"Aw, c'mon, man. Please?"

"Go. Away."

"Aaaaaw, _c'mon!"_

_I must not step on it-...him. Must not step on_ him_. Stepping on i-...him would leave a mess that one of the Autobots would be sure to find._

Sometimes, Starscream wished he had been manufactured with optic lasers. They tended to impair a good portion of one'svision and could cause the most ruthless headaches, but they were so, so effective in getting a point across.

_They probably wouldn't notice a tidy little pile of ash…_

As he lost himself in glorious fantasy, the squishy foldedits arms and, to his blunt amazement, stared crossly at him.

"Well, why the heck not, huh! All the Autobots-…"

He cut himself short as Starscream glanced around, then lowered himself onto one knee. Leaning forward so that his face loomed mere meters from the human boy's face, he kept his voice quiet and low. Even if Lserbeak was hiding somewhere in the rafters, he wouldn't have detected the seeker's next words.

"If you don't get out of here right now, you little punk, I'm going to_ eat_ you."

Now, thank Primus, the fleshy looked scared. He gave a shaky nod and, to Starscream's admiration, turned and_ walked_ dejectedly away.

_Finally,_ Starscream thought, and returned to training.

* * *

He was carrying yet another crate of tools to Smokescreen, having been persuaded/ordered into actually helping out by Prime(_aargh_) when a small, hopeful voice stopped him dead.

(Why, he wondered, did Prime just assume that he was skilled at hull repair? True, it was a hugely basic skill, but what did that matter? He was a Decepticon warrior, not a construction drone!

And it would have to be hull repair, wouldn't it. It wasn't that he was incapable of something as simple as welding metal together, but…his area of construction expertise tended more towards the inner gizzards of space craft. Delicate pieces of wiring and fragile bits that required hours spent fiddling gave him no problems whatsoever. But as for the proper technique of patching the exterior, a task even the simplest Decepticon warrior was supposed to be capable of, when it came to that, his education had been a bit…lacking.

(Not that he was embarrassed, of course. Embarrassment was an emotion unworthy of the universe's most ruthless fighting force.)

So he was carrying tools, and trying very hard not to think, _Merciful gods, if Megatron could see me now.)_

Only eons of training prevented him from dropping the lot as he spun to face the voice…

…on the ground.

_Aaaaiieeee._

He grimaced. The human boy grinned, admittedly rather nervously.

"Heya, Starscream! Say, I got a great idea, man! How about we-…"

"Get lost."

"But-…"

Turning to leave (although not without contemplating dropping the crate of the squishy's head and making for the moon as quickly as possible), Starscream growled. Instantly, the fleshy shut up.

_Primus, what am I doing here?_

* * *

"Hey, Starscream!-…"

_Tshiiing._

"Oh. O-okay man, that's cool…"

Watching Carlos scurry off, Starscream replaced his wing-sword with a twinge of satisfaction.

* * *

"Starscream!"

He whirled around, opened his mouth to shriek all manner of coarse, foul-minded threats, and choked into silence at the sight of the Autobot Leader's eternally complacent face.

_Scrap. Evasive maneuvers now._

He got no further than "Uh…" before Optimus Prime cut him off with a hearty, firm, very Autobot-ish nod.

"Good to see you. I was wondering if you could do me a small favor. The kids have been pestering me for a few days now…"

Starscream, whose mind was still gawking at the 'Good to see you' (_What kind of a commander IS this mechanism!),_ regained enough coherent thought to blurt out, "What?"

Optimus paused, before continuing; "Like I said, the kids and I were thinking about how nice it would be of you to take them for a ride sometime."

The seconds passed. The air molecules drifted. Any impression an onlooker may have gotten of time standing still was incorrect, but understandable. Slowly, Starscream said, "I beg your pardon?", as a sizeable portion of his pride went "Eeek!" and curled up into a ball.

He couldn't see it, but he knew, he just knew that the bastard was smiling. And it would be a nice smile too, full of compassion and a desire to promote only good will. _Bastard._

"Well, it was mostly just Carlos. He wants to take a ride, have a chance to get to know you. It'll be fun."

_YOU BASTARD! YOU! BASTARD!_

Taking Starscream's stunned silence completely the wrong way, Optimus Prime chuckled in a convivial, father-like way that made the seeker positively ache to reach out and choke him.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll do fine. Most of the others have given them rides at one point or another, it helps to forge ties. So, you'll do it? Excellent."

Optimus Prime had walked only eight steps before he heard the crash.

"Starscream…?"

* * *

The seeker ground his teeth. This was, doubtlessly, the worse megacycle of his entire existence. As if actually fainting in front of the Autobot High Commander wasn't sufficiently mortifying, he had also been completely unsuccessful in talking his way out of this loathsome little task. Wheedling, shrieking, whining, conniving, flat out refusing, nothing ha worked. Somehow, somehow the _miserly piece of hypocritical cowardly evil cheating lying __filthy damned hateful slagging piece of scrap lousy arrogant back-sliding _Autobot had made him do it. He hadn't shouted. He hadn't bargained. He hadn't even ordered. He'd just stood there, looking so damned patient, and asked him, very politely. And had kept on asking him until Starscream had found himself stuck between returning to Megatron's side and giving in. He'd given in.

"This is so totally awesome!" cheered Carlos, having crawled, with the assistance of his fleshy compatriots, into his cockpit.

_Slag everything._

The jet lay sunk in self-pity, as he heard the fleshy speak suddenly to him, a new note of concern in his voice.

"Hey, don't go too high, man, okay? I kinda get airsick sometimes."

**…**

Preoccupied with excitedly checking out the seeker's interior, Carlos carelessly assumed that he'd imagined the very soft snigger that echoed from Starscream's inner radio.

* * *

Starscream transformed, sighed, and flexed upwards in a long stretch. Mmm, that had been lovely. Nothing was better that a good, long flight after an entire day cooped inside a buried base.

A little way away, the two cannon-fodder fleshies caught their friend as he stumbled into their arms, murmuring things like 'no, don't want to die' and 'uuugh…'.

Automatically, the seeker took a quick, routine glance at his wings. Excellent, neither of them seemed to have suffered any damage in the vertical plunge. Here and there were strain marks from where split-seconds maneuvering in between the canyon walls had taken its toll, but nothing that self-repair couldn't handle. Of course, that left the small matter of thoroughly sterilizing his cockpit, but Swindle wouldn't mind…

"Well. _That_ was fun", the seeker said to nobody in particular as he exited the landing bay, passing Alexis on the way.

The girl stared after him, sighed, and said, flatly, "You're a sadistic creep."

The expression the seeker flashed her was almost too fleeting to be a sharp-edged grin, and the brief optical flicker almost too miniscule to be a wink.


	3. Tinker, Tailor, Traitor, Spy

Round three: Starscream versus Scavenger. DING! Fear teh snark.

Warning; chances are good a chunk of this isn't going to make much sense to anyone who hasn't seen 'Conspiracy'(possibly one of the greatest examples of Megs dicking around with Starscream's head yet.)

So, basic rundown; Starscream has the big blue glow stick…sword. Sword. Megatron wants the big blue…sword. Megatron gets Leader-One to fire off a few misleading shots that result in Starscream attacking Demolisher by mistake, under the impression that he's an Autobot. Megs then does a heroic Homer-Simpson-As-A-Bodyguard leap between Demmy and said glow...sword. Whilst this results in saving Demolisher's life, it also results in a wound to Megatron's shoulder and a surprising amount of shock on the quick-to-arrive Decepticons' part. (Surprising, presumably, not because SS almost hurt Demmy, because, well, they're Decepticons, but because Megs would actually intercept a blow for one of his men. Self-sacrifice is generally more Prime's thing.) The unanimous vote (see! Decepticons can be democratic!) is that Screamer should hand the sword over to Megatron. Starscream reluctantly hands it over, after Megatron states that, for the good of the group, he will accept responsibility for the big blue glow sti…sword's ownership. (See Megs. See Megs dicking with Starscream's head. Dick, Megs, dick!) As this is happening, Scavenger sees Leader-One scurry back up Megatron's leg. At the end of the ep, he hands in his resignation. As he leaves, he comments on how quickly Megatron's shoulder wound healed, then laughs and exits. Megatron growls, but doesn't shoot the head from his shoulders, as most would deem to be the appropriate course of action.

Whee…two minute summaries are fun.

Tinker, Tailor, Traitor, Spy

The Autobot base always seemed quieter at night, with good reason; the Earthling germs ('children', he reminded himself, 'children') were diurnal, and deserted the place for their own homes once the sun set.

This meant he was relatively free to prowl the base as he liked.

_This is…insane._

It wasn't, technically, his shift. He had no real reason (or, for that matter, right) to be prowling the Autobot base corridors, other than having awakened, shaking slightly, from yet another far-too-enjoyable dream involving clawed hands traveling slowly over his wings and sigil. Besides, he was curious by nature, and had been taken by a sudden desire to find out just how good Autobot internal defense systems really were.

The answer was beginning to worry him.

He rounded another corner, and reflected upon the result. A hundred glowing lasers utterly failed to erupt from every wall. A testy female voice from nowhere did _not_ demand to know what he thought he was doing. The relative peace and quiet remained unbroken by the wail of a thousand alarms. Nothing, in fact, happened at all.

_This is completely, hugely insane. _

Over the last half hour, he had made brief but enlightening visits to the armory, the training rooms, the med bay, the warp room and had wandered past the personal quarters of nearly every Autobot on base (more than once, in Jetfire's case).

Had this been a Decepticon base, every step he took outside his quarters (krell, every step he took in his quarters for all he knew, he mused darkly, thinking back to Thrust) would have been monitored by surveillance cameras. Had this been a Decepticon base, by now the entire crew would have assembled en masse, every one loaded with big guns and bigger smiles at the thought of vaporizing his insides. Had this been a Decepticon base, by now he would have been killed in more nasty ways than he cared to contemplate.

Well. Maybe not killed. He had, after all, spent years memorizing the strategic layout of most basic Decepticon intruder alarm systems, and was quite good at ducking at the right moment. So probably not killed. But certainly singed, shot at, scratched up and embedded with numerous pointy things.

_Give me a gun and a small but useful distraction and I could finish this war in a matter of minutes._

It was a dark, dizzying thought. He tucked it away for later and continued onwards.

The actual point of his quest was not to marvel at the inefficiency of the Autobot military mind, but to acquire himself a nice, sweetened cube of energon. Yet again he had…neglected to attend to the matter of sustenance after the day's battle, and was now becoming increasingly irritated at the realization that he could barely remember where the Autobot energon storage closet was. Jetfire had shown him already, of course, but his attention to detailed directions tended to extend only as far as a hand waved in the general vicinity of where something _might_, probably, have been at some point in history.

After twenty minutes of restless, questless rambling, he was stalking into the Autobots' main control room.

Strange, he noted as the doors swished shut, normally there was at least one Autobot on duty. Today (tonight, really, although the interior of the base looked exactly the same either way) there was a suspicious absence of anyone.

Although, he amended, another Autobot probably wouldn't have found it suspicious. But he was Starscream, and proud of the fact that he truly believed that everything, from the Minicons to the medic, was out to get him.

With no particular inclination to either train or attempt a return to recharge, he fiddled idly with the monitoring screens. Eventually surmising, without surprise, that the only thing in a position to mount a full-fledged attack on Autobot HQ right now was the small duck busy flying over the mountain.

He was toying with the idea of taking a few shots at it when a deep voice spoke up from the corner of the room.

"And what are you doing?"

The speed of the seeker's reflexes was something to behold. Before the speaker had completed the second syllable, Starscream had leapt twenty feet into the air and latched himself onto the nearest wall.

Acknowledging the seeker's feverishly panicked gaze with a sweep of his hand, Scavenger returned to his previous duty. Which looked suspiciously (or maybe not) to Starscream like contemplating the large energon cube held in one humongous hand.

He was about to voice this opinion when, slowly, the bulldozer spoke up again.

"You planning on coming down from there anytime soon?"

Whilst part of him was busy shrieking with indignation, the rest scanned the room for any other hidden spectators. Finding none, he tuned his conflict circuits out of 'kill first, ask questions later' mode. Slowly, he lowered himself to within an inch of solid ground, although he remained prepared to dart upwards again should the need arise. Scavenger snorted and took another swig.

Panic gone and irritation overridden by curiosity, Starscream studied the mercenary (or whatever he was now) with dislike. He'd loathed him from the moment he'd swaggered into Decepticon HQ, trailing insults and casual insubordination. The hatred had only intensified once Scavenger had proven to be a traitor, and had risen, irrationally, to boiling point once he himself had followed suite.

On the other hand, sour, uncomplicated loathing had driven well away any errant images of his ex-leader's hands, so perhaps the encounter was not a bad thing. Very, very gently, Starscream touched down on the floor.

"Am-azing. He screams, he backstabs and he even processes what people say to him. Will wonders never cease."

The voice hadn't changed. When first he'd heard it, it had been even more drawlingly mocking than even his own normally was.

"_Ad-mirable. You wanted to stand up to me, even though your armor's been severed. You seem to have much more courage than _even Megatron himself."_  
_

That, perhaps, had made him more furious than the rest of the degrading introduction altogether. _Slagging Autobot,_ thought both Decepticon mentality and natural Starscream in disgust.

"Watch your words, tra-...Autobot", he growled, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't hearthe another member of the Primary Colours Squad approaching the room to interrupt.

"Wanna know something?" the front-loader asked, entirely at random. The typical aggression that coated his words had departed, replaced by an air of philosophical curiosity. Optics flicking over to the nearly-empty cube, the seeker found himself wondering how much Scavenger had already imbibed.

_Splendid. An evening spent with a drunken mercenary spouting generic nuggets of quasi-wisdom. Will my luck never run dry. _

"The reason behind the entire war is simple: People do not have any…damn…perspective. Care to get drunk?"

…_rewind that moment, please?_

"What?"

"Do you, Starscream, current resident of Autobot HQ, Earth, Leader of the Decepticon Aerial Attack Force, care to get drunk?"

…_okay. New thing._

"No."

"Aw, c'mon."

"Get lost."

The mercenary turned and gave him a weird, wavering smile that didn't quite fit. Starscream fidgeted. He hadn't known Scavenger was capable of smiling like that.

"Y'know when the last time I socialized was? Ninety-two vorns ago."

Momentarily unable to think up a reply, Starscream watched as another toxic swig made its way down his throat.

"In fact", he continued, wiping the residue from his mouth, "last time I did anything with anybody else that didn't include fighting, training or following orders was…let's see…fifty thousand Earth years ago. How's that for depressing?"

_And now we're clear out of the generic nuggets range and into the land of unnervingly strange. Hmm._

"Primus, will you take that look off your face?"

_What?_

"What look, trai-...Autobot?"

"And don't call me _that_, either. The look that suggests that I'm hiding an artillery ship behind my back. It's annoying me."

Starscream glowered. Scavenger swiveled the centre point of one optic around to peer at him.

"Oh. I get it."

The spy's quiet, bass chuckle was really beginning to test Starscream's patience. Scavenger continued, oblivious to the rising pillar of fury. "Y'know, he brought me in as an added boost. Not a last resort. Definitely not a replacement."

"I do not require the opinion of Autobot _traitors,_ nor do I have any idea of what you're talking about", replied Starscream, his voice waspish and spiteful.

"You weren't much to look at, alright? I have a…tendency to judge on first impressions."

The seeker responded with a high-pitched, superbly disdainful clicking noise. Scavenger ignored him.

"And I meant it, by the way. What I said."

Abruptly, the whirling gears behind the indignant expression changed course. "I don't _care_ what you said, mercenary", Starscream replied, quietly.

"Y'know the mercenary bit fell by the wayside 'bout three thousand years ago. I've been working exclusively for Prime since then."

"Anymore than I care about your credentials, _mercenary",_ the seeker snapped, teeth baring.

Scavenger fell silent. He looked oddly out of place in the brightly-lit control room. Design and colour both suggested that he would be better suited to guerilla warfare on Cybertron, or one of the many minor outposts where turf wars were still being fought. Not here, in this freshly-repaired base, on this odd planet where both sides had developed one of the oddest types of warfare Starscream had ever experienced (he had privately dubbed it 'Battle Plan Sit, Wait and Watch The Monitor'.)

To his surprise, Starscream found himself muttering, "Besides, what would you know about our courage? You're not a Decepticon."

Scavenger's wry chuckle put him in mind of gravel running through faltering engines.

"Don't be stupid. Sure I was."

The chuckle became more pronounced at the look on the seeker's face. "What, you thought I was a neutral? Gimme a break."

Flabbergasted, Starscream could do little beyond gape. "But you…you're…"

"Thought you were the first, I guess."

"I…_No,_ but…"

"I was sparked a Decepticon. I got bored. I met Prime. I went neutral. Did the merc thing for the next few million years. Then Prime needed help, and I owed him favor, so I went undercover. And here we are. The end."

"…Why?"

Scavenger looked thoughtful, before giving the sort of shrug that requires shoulders succeeding your own head. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Starscream was unable to keep the disgust from his face. Scavenger glanced his way, and gave a thoughtful 'hmm'. Draining the cube, he frowned contemplatively into the middle distance.

"Hmm. So", he mused, cupping his chin. "We've ruled out the jealousy angle, I seriously doubt you've held a grudge over one puny little insult, it can't be the he's-a-traitor angle, so…gee, I'm stumped. What is your problem with me?"

Regaining his balance, the seeker spat, "Take a guess", as savagely as he could.

"Oh. Oh. You hypocritical little creep."

"You-...It's_ not_ the same!"

Scavenger smiled smugly. "Maybe not."

In a slightly calmer voice, the seeker continued, "_He_ betrayed me. Not the other way around."

What Starscream didn't say-judging by Scavenger's face, he didn't need to-was, "_You just deserted, you coward! He welcomed you with open arms! Gave you respect without condition! You had no right!"_

"Primus. All the reasons I could give you to hate me, you don't even pick the most obvious one."

_Stinking, miserly…wait, what was that?_

"S'pose I should probably tell ya. Autobot honesty's starting to rub off on me," he said with a self-deprecating little snigger. The energon cube-at last empty- was flung grandly to the side. Both mammoth arms swung up to link fingers behind his neck in a stretch, before his head fell back with a satisfied grunt.

Thoroughly annoyed with the whole business, Starscream was unable to suppress the curiosity that was fundamental to his nature. He frowned, tentatively moving from the wall to step closer. When no reaction came from the mercenary, he moved closer still, until he stood a cautious twenty meters from his chair. When still no reaction came, he said;

"Well?"

A snore was offered in response, and Starscream found himselfcontemplating summoning the Air Defense Team and settling matters here and now. Plans of imminent slaughter were cut short by the opening of a single white-gold optic.

_And Jetfire thinks mine are creepy? _he thought with a suppressed shiver.

"Well what? Oh. That. Right",Scavenger added as the seeker gave a low growl. "You sure you want to know?"

* * *

He persuaded the exile to sit down. Although maybe 'persuaded' was too strong a word, considering the amount of offering, hinting, cajoling and mocking that had been involved, until the seeker had given up on composure and perched himself upon the nearest computer module. It was a position, Scavenger noted, that still allowed him to be seated higher than the mercenary.

_Hmm. God-complex, anyone? _

"Okay, let's get it over with. Star Saber. The kid lost it, you got your greasy little mits on it, Megatron took it from you."

The seeker nodded, the cheerful nostalgia that had alighted on his face fading into a black scowl the moments his ex-employer's name was brought up. He had been sorely aggravated at losing the sword. Apart from elevating him from a danger on the battlefield to walking death incarnate, wielding it effectively had, in his opinion, offered up proof to Megatron of his worth as something more than a common grunt.

Besides, he was a possessive being, and he rather liked Runway. Whether they were happy with it or not, the Air Defence Team were under his protection, and, therefore, were _his._

"Right. You remember how he took it from you, do ya?"

The other frowned, and said, "Of course." After a pause, he added, "There was a…mutual agreement that it would be better off in his hands."

"Yep. Right. You remember why that was?"

The seeker glared again-_You were there, you know exactly why_- and said, "Yes. I was found guilty of misconduct. I inadvertently attacked Demolisher."

"Yep. Right. You remember why_ that_ was?"

"You know the answers to these questions, mercenary. _Why_ are you asking me?"

Scavenger hummed a tune and tilted his head back again, until Starscream huffed and grated, "It was foggy."

_Very, very foggy. Zero visibility foggy._

"I heard shots fired near me."

_And if he ever found out just which Autobot those shots had come from…_

"They seemed to be coming from Demolisher's direction. My scanners were unable to identify him in time."

_That, and the fact that he had been too eager to present Megatron with a freshly severed Autobot head to take the time to actually bother identifying the target…_

"I went to attack him. Then…Megatron got in the way."

_There was no way-simply no way-to describe the horror that had filled Starscream's universe, standing there, clutching the Saber in both hands and staring at the shower of sparks as they flew from Megatron's shoulder. He couldn't see most of the warlord's face, but he'd been more than able to imagine the expression._

"Yep. Right", said Scavenger, in an oddly awkward voice. Starscream stared stoically ahead. "Just out of interest…you ever wonder where those shots came from?"

The words shook the seeker from reverie, and he glanced at the mercenary in confusion. Then his optics flared.

Scavenger ducked just in time.

"Primus, will you get a grip? I didn't say it was _me!"_

"Oh", said Starscream, and replaced his sword with just a touch of embarrassment.

"Kids these days…", muttered the mercenary, reclaiming his seat.

"…But you do know who fired them?" questioned Starscream once the mercenary had finished grumbling, trying not to sound too eager. He'd spent many a recharge cycle dreaming up new, interesting ways of gutting whomever it had been that had, in one stroke, robbed him of both the sword and a good portion of Megatron's respect.

"Er…yep…"

"Who?"

Scavenger told him. Later, Starscream would decide that he really shouldn't have been so surprised.

"_You knew. You knew all the time. And you didn't… tell me."_

Scavenger had been alive for many years and had long since learned to judge a mech's voice. He was ready for it.

Fifteen minutes later, Scavenger picked himself up from the floor. He looked in disapproval at the two-meter-long cuts that had been hacked into his chair. He shook his head at the blade that was still embedded in the nearest monitoring scene.

"I'll tell you, I'm not looking forward to explaining that one to Optimus", he called after the seeker as he stormed out of the doors.

Almost as much, he thought, as Starscream would not be looking forward to explaining his newly ripped-off arm and dented wing to Jetfire. All in all, the mercenary decided, that could have gone worse. He wasn't sure why he'd bothered, but the claw marks up his arms and across his face were worth watching the Second In Command of the Decepticon Army throw the biggest temper tantrum he had ever seen.

"Kids these days…", he muttered again, and pulled another energon cube from subspace. Settling back in his disfigured chair, he winced and reached down to yank a sliver of blade from his leg.


	4. Life's A Beach

((reviewer love!))

Stick me in a room with a Life Orientation teacher and it will lead to this. Other than that, I have the odd urge to write Swindle firecracker!angst.

Life's a Beach

"Have you thought of finding another job, maybe?" she suggested. "One that doesn't involve killing Autobots?"

He stared at her.

"I'm a Decepticon war machine. Killing Autobots is what I _do_."

Alexis sighed.

He really didn't mind the small human so much. She was nice to him, in an obligatory sort of way, and was intelligent enough not to bother asking him too many questions.

And he was…surprised. He had travelled to some of the farthest corners of the galaxy, and had learnt that 'sentient' had an awful lot of range. That quadruped thing that the fat human had shown off to Optimus the day before-was that sentient? And why not? It communicated, didn't it? It expressed emotion, in the same limited way as humans, didn't it?

Obviously, it wasn't like _them,_ Starscream told himself, and by _them_ he'd meant other transformers. It couldn't be, just like humans couldn't be, because…because…

...they were so _small._

The fact that one transformer alone could outlive the lifespan of a planet, with all its fallen civilisations, tended to endow one with a generous ladle of perspective. Admittedly, the fact that this perspective was generally warped beyond all recognition was something that tended to escape much notice.

The war had taken its toll upon alien research, beyond the energy they had available and the weaponry they had guarding that energy. After the first billion years, sentient recognition had settled down to a rocky 'anything that lives half as long as we do.' Starscream had flownscoutingroutes that took longer than the average human lifespan.

So the fact that he liked Alexis far more than most of the soldiers he spent his day fighting with or against was beginning to make him feel a bit peculiar.

Behind him, Runway set off another firework. It raced into the sky, narrowly avoiding Sonar, and burst into a thousand green lights.

"Okay", the small human said after a time. "Fine. So a career move is out of the question. What about a change in diet?"

The edge of the pencil tapped expectantly against her knee. He turned his head to look at her in irritation. "What are you_ doing_?"

She closed her optical receptors-eyes, he reminded himself, eyes- and recited, "An essay on the factors of change and environment that lead to the growth of healthier, longer-living individuals with a comfortable place in today's societies."

"Your environment is dreadful. Your society is backwards. And I'll live longer than you."

"That's not really helpful."

"Allow me to reiterate; Decepticon. War. Machine. If I am helpful, I am obviously not doing my job."

Crimson and white-gold light up the sky briefly, bathing the annoyance on the female's face in red.

"You know, I _could _do this paper on someone else."

"Go ahead."

"On the other hand"- the pencil tapped impatiently on the side of her clipboard- "I doubt any of the Autobots are as socially-underdeveloped as you." Her tone of voice implied that this was an obvious point and that he was a fool to have missed it.

An image of Sideswipe popped unnervingly to Starscream's mind.

"…I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"_Well,_ if you're _going_ to be fussy about it, maybe I'll just ask one of the Minicons."

Her nose tilted up, she was still able to cast him a scowl that put him strangely in mind of Megatron. He brightened up suddenly, in a way that wasn't entirely to do with the rocket that had just launched itself past his shoulder, rapidly pursued by Sonar and a high-pitched, bleeped "Whee!".

"That's a good idea."

"What is?" she asked, opening one opti-...eye to glare at him. He shifted round to face the sand dunes below. Sonar and Jetstorm were preoccupiedwith playing in the phosphorescent waves. Swindle was handling the fireworks, and trying to avoid getting sand in his tires.

Upon being summonsed, he handed matters over to Runway, who eagerly accepted the post, and he crawled up the dune to their side.

"Ya yelled, boss?" he beeped.

"Alexis has a few…questions to ask you."

"Oh, criminy."

As Alexis smiled a wide smile and made her way towards the next target, Starscream shifted back and watched the lightshow. It was nothing compared to some of the battle field skies he'd been witness to. On the other hand, you couldn't get a ruptured fuel tank explosion in half as many colours.

(Except on Charr, of course. But the resultant chemical fallout _there_ would kill you before you had time to see the show and would do it again fifteen times if you showed even the slightest hint of being alive.)


End file.
